United States of Spades
by Invisible Staircase
Summary: When the King and Queen of Spades suddenly appear on his front lawn, America finds himself trapped, a prisoner as his country's fate and freedom is threatened.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia, make no claim to creating it, and will be forced to cower and hide should anyone come after me for borrowing such wonderful characters for this modest little fic.

Author's notes to follow at the bottom of the fic.

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><p>His breathing was labored, every draw of air a monumental effort. He felt delirious, disoriented, each heart beat a force that shook his chest and reverberated through his ears. Sweat trickled down his face, from temple to cheek, a millimeter per agonizing second. The sensation was maddening, the itch and tickle he couldn't reach up to scratch.<p>

Eyes blinking at a snail's pace, brilliant blue orbs moving as if bathed in molasses, he tried to stare up at his jailer, at the one who had him trapped and bound in some sort of unholy half stasis. It was so very difficult to move, to process and think and focus. He was aware of the world around him yet horribly not. Out of touch, out of _synch_, there was a dull hum to everything that left it so surreal.

"There now love, you really _should_ try to rest…" A voice _so_ familiar crooned at him, so very familiar yet gut wrenchingly _wrong_. A gloved hand reached down, never touching his chin, merely ghosting beneath it. America would have given anything for the strength to turn his head down, to snap at those fingers. As if sensing this and the Nation's rising frustration, his captor laughed.

Backing away, his green eyes sparkling in smug confidence, the other smirked. "You've done well, I'll admit. Most would have been crushed by my power by now. You put up a good fight, not that it will do you any good in the end." Words tinged with an accent that was _absolutely wrong_ mocked him even as they seemed to praise him. America could hear more than see the other walking about the room, walking about America's own basement! Moving his head was just, frustratingly enough, impossible.

"It really does seem a shame though… disposing of you like this… you do wear _his_ face after all… you're so very similar…" The steps grew louder, the figure drawing close again as hands reached out. As fingers moved and slid down his side, as they curled and squeezed at his waist, America hissed, lips and tongue useless for once. The other laughed at him. "Although it seems no one here has succeeded in curbing that tremendous appetite of yours, hmm? Oh don't look so scandalized… it's… cute."

America managed a rather pathetic growl, and his captor simply tapped his head, the force seeming to reverberate and make his ears ring. Steps carried the intruder away, off towards the very edge of America's peripheral vision reached. The green-eyed doppelganger strolled over to a rather large clock, propped up against a chair. A gloved hand ran a finger almost lovingly along the rim, the sensation somehow feeling like nails dragged over the Nation's skin.

"Regardless, we cannot have you getting in our way, not when we've made it here. Not when we've found a new home at last…" The intruder took a seat, smugness never leaving his face or voice. "Go to sleep… you're no longer necessary."

- s - p - a - d - e - s –

The conference room was, predictably, a riot of noise. Arguments, insults, petty banter and meaningless chatter filled the air. Typical, so very typical of course, for any sort of World Conference. Nations were clustered in small groups, the meeting for the day essentially over, personifications merely lingering for a short while after. Some had already left, yes, but the room was still quite full.

From his spot by the wall, Canada watched it all with a faint smile on his lips. He was tired and worn out from the meeting, but not terribly so. It wasn't as though he was able to participate in any of the more vigorous debates, what with the world persistently acting as though he was invisible. It was more tiring trying to get everyone's attention than it was anything else. With a tiny sigh, he was ready to call it a day. He'd head back to his hotel room, cuddle Kumatani, and get some sleep.

As the figure of America started striding over, however, Canada paused in his plans. He wasn't sure why exactly, as getting singled out by his brother could be a nightmare. Especially in a political environment. The last thing Canada needed was to listen to his brother rant, listen to another horrible robot or super hero filled idea or… worst of all… possibly get dragged into any of his southern brother's 'great ideas'. However, there was something in the way America was looking at him… honestly _looking_ at him, that kept Canada rooted to the spot.

America seemed in a good mood at least, grinning away and wiping at his eyes beneath his glasses as if he'd been laughing so hard he needed to wipe away the tears. As Canada watched him approach, he wasn't exactly able to put his finger on what felt wrong about the other Nation. There was that same confidence in his steps, as if he was on top of the world and had every right to be. Still that overwhelming aura that screamed entitlement.

Yet, perhaps that was it in a way. His brother had been a bit diminished of late, understandably so in the world right now. No, his brother hadn't been depressed… but he'd certainly been showing a few signs of fatigue under that obnoxiously upbeat personality. Watching America approach him right now… well… you'd never know there were any sort of economic problems in his country, or any other problems really…

"Ah… this is hilarious…" America said as he came to lean against the wall beside Canada, and the northern Nation quirked a brow. There… there was something else… a very strange tick in America's voice. It wasn't exactly an accent… yet he didn't sound _right_… didn't sound himself. Canada had only picked up on it a little during the meeting proper as… strange now that he looked back, America hadn't actually said much during the meeting.

"… what is?" The Canadian murmured back softly, wondering if he'd get a response of if America thought he was alone right now. It wasn't as though his brother didn't talk to himself now and again.

"This!" The reply was swift, blue eyes locking onto Canada with precision. He really truly was talking to Canada.

"… I suppose?" This all felt a bit surreal. A little frightening, really, though in a 'what's wrong with America now' sort of way. "It's… pretty much the same as ever, eh?"

"Hahaha… yeah… yeah I guess it is! Still… I mean… wow… how has the world not fallen apart, ya know?"

He… wasn't really sure what to say about that. His brother watched him for a moment before shaking his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Ah never mind, not like a Two would know anyway."

Canada frowned. What? Had he heard that right? His brother was making less sense than usual if so.

"America… America, there you are!" England's voice cut over the noise, said Nation raising his hand to get America's attention as he tried to fight his way through clusters of Nations. At his side, Canada noticed his brother stiffen. A very strange look crossed his face, one that seemed utterly out of place and foreign. Canada wasn't able to puzzle it out before it was masked with a smile. America gave him a pat to the shoulder.

"That's my cue to leave, cover for me! Later!" And with that America escaped from the room, a very irate England ranting after him, passing Canada as if the Nation didn't exist. For now, the Canadian wasn't bothered, instead distracted by his own questions. His brother was… either up to something… or…

Or what?

- s - p - a - d - e - s –

He found it was slightly easier to remember things, to get lost in the past, than it was to try to focus on the future. Heck, it was easier than paying attention to the now as well. Whatever that clock was doing to him, it seemed mostly focused on keeping him from interacting with the world. For a Nation that loved to dream of the future, for one who craved freedom in his bones, this was agony, plain and simple.

America was in hell, and he had no idea how to escape. He didn't really even understand how he'd wound up in this situation, really. He'd been rushing around his house, haphazardly packing his suitcase so he could catch his flight to the World Conference… when he'd heard this sound outside. It hadn't been a boom… or a pop… or any simple noise he could define with one syllable. It had been very loud, however, and a strange loud noise rarely meant anything good.

Taking up his trusty sidearm, he'd headed outside, expecting terrorists or maybe monsters or possibly zombies…

He'd seen himself. Or… someone who looked just like him (or… maybe what's his name… Canada?) and England. They'd just been standing there, dusting smoke from their strangely antiquated and fancy clothes, speaking in some weird sort of gibberish that made America's head hurt. Or maybe staring at his clone was making his head hurt. He hoped he wasn't in the middle of some sort of sci-fi story, where if you saw your double you died or something. Sci-fi or horror.

He'd shouted out to them, being totally bold and heroic as always of course, asking who they were and what they were doing on his lawn. At first they'd stared at him like he was crazy, but then the weird England with the tiny top hat cocked on his head had started to mumble and mutter something. It hadn't made any sense to America… but _after_ that, the two 'strangers' had at least started to speak English.

"Where are we?" The not-real-America had asked him, and how weird was it to see and hear yourself speak with some weird accent?

He'd proudly declared where they were, of course. The glorious United States of America! That… that had been… when things had turned weird. Very very weird. That had been when, well, a short while later… he'd found himself trapped. Deep down in his basement. Guarded over by fake-England and literally stuck in time. There were golden chains looped about his limbs, but those seemed more of a formality than anything else.

No matter how much he strained his muscles, tried to use that 'super strength' of his… he wasn't moving.

At least he was aware right now… his consciousness seeming to drift in and out thanks to whatever fake-England was doing to him. He was aware and drifting through his memories mostly. Voices above him gained his attention, however, and heroically he strained to focus. Listen to this… listen to now… come on America, you can do this…

"… inept, incompetent… it's amazing! You'd be struggling not to laugh, watching them all squabble and stuff."

It was the fake-him talking.

"Well, it's all for the best, the, isn't it? One never likes to work _too_ hard to clean up their new home."

Fake-England sounded a little too cocky for America's liking.

"True enough… but still… this looks like it's gonna be _way_ too easy. Nothing stands a chance of stopping us!"

The conversation seemed to cease… or perhaps America drifted off again. But as his mind swam in and out of the dark, as his awareness drifted through memories good and bad, one phrase kept surfacing in his mind, haunting him like some horrid specter. Perhaps one of his captors had said it, or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, using the strange pattern and motif the two wore to create some sort of nightmare. All the same, every time the phrase echoed through his mind, his body wanted to shudder.

"_The Kingdom of Spades shall rise again."_

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Annnd… why am I not working on my other fics? No 'good' reason. I haven't been writing at all. Trying to remedy that.

In regards to _this_ fic… I've been wanting to do something with the cardverse so very much… and finally broke down. This is mostly taking place in the typical Hetalia-verse though… sort of a cross-over if you will. The only thing of note I do want to point out is that if you find the King and Queen of Spades to be out of character (as in, they don't act just like America and England), it's on purpose. I'm writing them more like OC's, not clones of the US and UK. If that bothers you, I'm sorry.

Other than King of Spades/Queen of Spades, I haven't considered any pairings for this fic.

I have no beta for this fic, so please excuse any horrible mistakes. My time for writing is not very high, so expect sparse updates with no set frequency.

Feedback is always loved though. Later!


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't certain exactly _why_ it bothered him so much, why the nagging sense of dread and unease wouldn't leave him alone. It'd just been one meeting and one slightly strange conversation after. It shouldn't be something that Canada kept finding his thoughts drawn back to. Yet… as the days after the World Conference continued on, the Canadian found his thoughts lingering back on that day. Back with his brother, and the strange sense of wrong he'd felt.

Calling was no good. Aside from the fact that America had always been a bit spotty when it came to answering his calls, it was just too typical for his southern brother to quickly brush him off. Nations were busy creatures, Canada of course included, and yet… something inside kept nagging at him. Some tiny worm of doubt and suspicion seemed to crawl through his belly, wriggling into his veins if he tried to ignore it too long.

He hated that his brother could cause so much stress for him without, apparently, really trying, but so it went. After the first hundred years of it, it stopped being something to get _too_ upset about. He'd do his semiannual passive aggressive rant later. When he… when he was sure America was really, well… ok.

He'd asked his boss for some time off, worked extra hard to ensure he had the free days to spend on this trip south to check up on America. The extra work did help to distract him to an extent, but not enough to dispel the gaping worry that ate away at his core, that made him feel hollow and restless all at once. He checked the news far too often, read the paper and watched TV while somehow expecting to find something horrible at any minute.

Dire expectation failed to become catastrophic reality, and Canada currently found himself outside his brother's more traditional and spacious home. It was a guess, that his brother was here rather than any of the more modern apartments he owned now. The car he'd rented sat behind him, engine cooling from the remote drive out here. A backpack rested over Canada's shoulders, making him look every bit the young teenager most humans perceived him as. Wrapped in his arms, Kumaroni yawned, apparently not at all bothered as his master.

"That's… new…" Staring at the tree filled lawn, Canada noticed that a couple of the trees seemed a bit… damaged? He wandered over to one slowly, blinking at the aged bark through the slim glass that rested before his eyes. Definitely… definitely some sort of blade had carved into the bark. Dark old wood splintered and peeled away from fresh pale, sap pooling and collecting along the edges like an amber scab. He moved one hand to feel the wood, supporting Kumataro with just one arm for now.

"It's… a pretty sloppy cut…" Canada furrowed his brow, bottom lip drawing in as he chewed it. He couldn't imagine any reason America would defile the trees that surrounded his house. Lover of industry as his brother was, his personal property was a testament to the wide open lands they'd both roamed as kids. America wouldn't cut the trees around his house down. Not if he were sane or sober. _'Though being drunk might explain the horrible cut…'_ That was another thing… he knew America had cut down enough trees in his lifetime not to make such a worthless and amateur cut.

Damage to another tree nearby had him slinking over carefully, casting a furtive glance towards the windows of his brother's house as if he expected to see his brother peering out at him, scowling and brooding like a fairytale villain. No one was at the windows, though, and he approached the next tree. His lips twisted into a grim line, an unhappy rumble in his throat. It was almost impossible for a Nation _not_ to know what a bullet could do… and it was very clear this tree had been shot. On purpose though? Not likely.

Canada's bad feeling only grew much worse.

He debated what to do. Wondered if he should call for help. _'Help with what?'_ Wondered if he should try to sneak in. _'America probably won't notice if I do.'_ He didn't want to foolishly walk into danger… yet he didn't want to blow things out of proportion. His brother liked to engage in a _lot_ of very stupid pastimes and hobbies. He knew he'd get ridiculed if he jumped to the wrong conclusion here.

A chill went up his spine, causing him to shudder slightly, to hug Kumajiwa tighter. It was that strange sense of being watched again, even more unsettling this time. He wasn't used to being _watched_, it was strange when someone noticed him first.

"I'll… try the front door then…" His brother, foolhardy as he was, wasn't someone to be taken down lightly. He had that crazy strength to start, and enough cunning hidden behind that idiot exterior to tangle with the likes of Russia. Canada was hoping he was just being very, very paranoid.

The walk up to America's porch was surreal. The world around him wasn't silent, it wasn't as though all the birds had stopped chirping, the wind ceased to blow through the branches of the trees, or any such nonsense. All the same, Canada could swear that every step he took, no matter how careful, seemed to be inordinately loud. It sounded to his ears as if he was stomping up the walkway, which he most certainly was not. At least each beat of his heart wasn't ringing in his ears… that would have been far too overdramatic.

Reaching the door he knocked, waiting to see if America would answer before immediately going for the doorbell. The house was huge and sprawling, so the bell might be needed, but Canada gave knocking a chance first. He gave it a couple good chances really, eyes peering about as he waited. It was of course possible his brother wasn't home, or wasn't at this residence. He'd have to deal with it if that was the case, but the fresh damage to those trees made the Canadian rather confident his brother was here.

The doorbell then. He pressed it and waited, pressing it again only when he was certain his brother should have been able to make it to the door. Nothing worse than someone with an itchy doorbell finger that keeps pressing it while you rush for the door. America could be that someone sometimes.

He was about to give up and take on that sneaking in idea when suddenly the door opened. Canada blinked, totally caught off guard and wondering how he could have missed his brother's careless and sloppy (and very _noisy_) steps towards the door. _'Easy… he didn't make noise this time…'_ The thought was flagged and filed away in Canada's mind as he gazed at his brother.

America was… well… he was wearing his clothes, yes. Canada could recognize the articles of clothing America was in… though he'd never seen his brother in that combination of them. Oh it wasn't surreal or anything, it wasn't like he was wearing a suit jacket over star spangled swim trunks. It was… it was subtle. _Again_. The clothes were right yet somehow it felt more like someone had reached into America's closet and picked out the outfit for him. It… it just lacked… it just lacked his brother's usual quirks of style.

"Hey Canada, how are you?" Relaxed, his brother seemed friendly enough. He was smiling at him, casually leaned against the door frame, blue eyes intent as he gazed at Canada. Again the northern brother was struck by how odd that was. Right away, no prompting needed, he had all of America's attention.

"I'm… alright…" A bit at a loss for words, Canada trailed off. His brother chuckled, but the laugh felt… forced.

"What are you doing here anyway? I didn't know you'd be stopping by." His brother didn't seem tense, didn't seem unhappy to see him… yet he was also making no move to let Canada in. No invitation offered at all.

"I just… thought it'd be nice… to spend some time together… if you're free…?" He cocked his head to the side, hyper observant even if he tried to stay meek on the outside. His brother, however, was giving him such a scrutinizing look. Absolutely strange for someone famed for never reading the atmosphere. Things were starting to feel a bit tense when America smirked.

"Well sure, come on in Canada." His brother reached out, ruffling the hair on Kumanagi's head. "You and Kumajiro here are always welcome!" The bright boisterous laugh was close, _so close_, to sounding like America. So so close… but Canada could hear through it. He offered what he was certain was an imposter a weak smile and took a step to follow the man inside.

In his arms, Kumasoji looked up, cocking his head to the side. It looked at 'America' as he closed the door behind them, then looked up at Canada. "Who?" The little bear asked him, and for once the question wasn't directed at Canada. The Nation sighed, wary and ready to get out of there at a moment's notice.

"That's what I want to know…"

- s - p - a - d - e - s -

There was a ringing in his head… a strange distorted chime that seemed to warble in and out. The sound seemed tangible, like a rainbow of oily colors, spinning through his vision and dripping over him like Dalí's clocks. He would have groaned, but he found he couldn't do much of anything anymore. Time was truly breaking away from him, his body felt lost. Detached. His thoughts were taking a dangerously existential turn every time he let his guard down.

"Hmm… you have a visitor…" The voice was sheer agony, so horribly loud. It made his vision swim, the words echoing and tumbling back and forth through his mindscape. It was the 'Queen'… the green eyed captor. America wished that he could find a way not to hear the Queen. It still annoyed him to have to hear England's voice coming from those lips, with that strange foreign accent. It was even worse hearing the gloating tone.

The Queen seemed so certain he'd won.

America tried to focus though. A visitor… had that been the doorbell then? But who would be here… he… wasn't expecting anyone to visit him. The only one who might just drop by…

"The Two of Diamonds is a fool… stepping into our home like this. So far from his King…" The sensation of a hand caressing America's cheek rolled through his memory, like some strange touch that had happened long ago, like a touch he was anticipating. It was getting so weird, the way he was losing the ability to tell when things happened. If they had happened. "Oh, but I suppose… here he wouldn't… it's so strange."

The Queen trailed off, making no sense at all. Still… 'Two of Diamonds'? Who was that? America strained to move, or at least thought he did. It didn't matter if he knew this 'Two' or not. He wouldn't let anyone get hurt in his home, by these strange imposters. He could hear the Queen laughing, no doubt aware of his efforts to break free. He tried to use it as fuel, as further motivation to get moving again somehow.

He just wished he had _any_ idea how to fight this force that held him.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Silly as it sounds, I'm trying not to be too careful with this fic. It is what it is and will become what it becomes. I have a clear goal and direction in mind, events I want to type, but other than that? Trying not to over plan it. I'm running loose and wild here! Hopefully, it's therapeutic for me. Hopefully it's an enjoyable read for you.

Thank you _**so**_ much to Chelseaj500 for being my only reviewer so far! Glad to have someone else excited about this idea! The kind words were definitely loved and appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

His captor seemed agitated, or… at least… America thought he seemed so. There was so much movement around him or… no… yes? He had the sense, the impression? His disorientation was getting the best of him it seemed, but that didn't make America any less determined to figure out what was going on. He clung desperately to the memory, the fact? That there was a visitor at his house. Was… a visitor… would be a visitor…

No! Someone was there, that had to be it. That stupid Queen had said it was… a… a… playing card? He felt dizzy with confusion, felt like he could fall over. Maybe he had. The Nation had almost no awareness of his body at all at the moment… though he was glad he didn't feel the Queen's hands on him anymore. _'Oh… a queen… playing cards… haha… is…' _He gave a mental shake of the head. Living moving playing cards? Get it together America.

But it was oddly true… that the clearest sensation he seemed to feel right now was the Queen's touch. He wondered if he could use that _somehow_… but couldn't even figure out how he would. Or… what he'd use it for? Mind drifting in and out of the now, America nearly forgot about his visitor again, sweet sweet memories of the past washing up to his mind. They were so much easier to look at… much more pleasant than the thought of being trapped in his own basement while some visitor was upstairs in trouble.

"N-No… I'm… the… hero…" His voice sounded like a distorted audio track, warbling in and out, going fast and slow. He didn't care how stupid he sounded though… because it was a victory! As if the words had broken some sort of block in his mind, the situation looked crystal clear. He could see everything in front of him, even if he couldn't actually turn his head still. The Queen's startled gasp and his hurried footsteps sounded utterly and perfectly normal, and America took as deep a breath as he could, trying to savor this moment of clarity.

Gloved hands gripped his hair, yanking his head back as furious green eyes stared down at him. Furious… yet shocked too. America latched onto the pain, sadistic as it seemed. Anything to try and drag his senses back to him. His captor stared down at him, scrutinizing, as if trying to figure out how this was possible.

"D-Don't count me out yet," he taunted, which turned out to be a bad idea of course. One hand released his hair as it shot down, gripping at the gold chain that bound him. It was drawn up, looped around his neck and tugged, and America choked and spluttered. As a Nation it wasn't as though he was in any true danger of suffocating, but it was a horrible experience all the same, and one that worked against his attempts at mental clarity.

"You don't cease to be surprising," the Queen crooned out as he tugged the chain tighter, the pain intense and America's vision spotting with stars and dark patches.

"Not to give you _too_ much credit of course," the smug voice continued. "If this were my home… you'd be gone already. Nothing, not even a spec on the ledger of existence." There was a chuckle at America's ear as the other leaned in close. "I just need more _time_ here… and then you will be lost. No… you will have never existed."

America tried to move, twitch, roar or anything, but that time-lost feeling was swiftly washing over him again. Panic made his heart skip a beat, and frantically he tried to think of something to do. He mentally cursed his body, struggled against limbs that apparently were more like dead weights to him now. All that strength he had and it was all completely and utterly useless right now. All he could do was stare defiantly up into green eyes… and it felt so horribly similar to the past that the world really did feel like it was collapsing in time. He couldn't tell if this was the imposter he looked at or England, couldn't tell if the anger coursing through him was over his imprisonment here or his absolute need for Independence. Where was he… _when_ was he? A horrible pain started to form in the back of his mind, curling at the base of his skull and starting to dig down his spine.

A tiny flash of light and the chains went slack, America crumpling to a ball on the ground for a moment and gasping. His mind seemed blank for a moment, and he could hardly remember who he was, let alone what that tiny grey person-ish thing was at the top of the stairs. The Nation was slow to move at all, slow to realize that the chain had been broken somehow. The tiny grey thing was holding a… gun… of some sort? But what it fired didn't seem like any bullet America remembered. Regardless, this little guy seemed to be on _his_ side as it fired against the Queen, and America silently tried to cheer it on as he struggled for his feet.

The grey seemed to have the advantage, though all too quickly America's captor seemed to lose his patience. Rather than dodging back on the defensive, the man began to chant, waves of green fire licking off the walls and surging like an inferno throughout the basement. The grey jumped back on his own, which was good as America would have been too slow in warning him to watch out. As it was he tried to scoot away from the flames.

Almost drowned out by the sound of the fire around him, a faint cry of his name drew America's attention upward. The voice was familiar, and hope started to fill America a bit as he sought to place the voice. It called out for him again, though there were loud sounds and crashes upstairs too he realized. _'Someone came for me!'_ Well, someone other than this grey thing… other than Tony! Recognition hit America, and in the next instant he recalled the voice. He didn't know what was going on upstairs, but he knew what he needed to do.

"Tony!" He shouted to his alien pal, hoping he didn't distract the irritable little guy from his fight with fake-England. Much as America needed out of here, he knew what the hero was supposed to do here. "Tony, you have to get Canada out of here!"

The alien swore at him, but America just grinned. "I can handle this, go help my brother. Please Tony!" Oversized eyes locked with his and the Nation tried to seem confident. The flames were starting to take on some sort of monstrous shape, and he knew there really wasn't any time to argue over this. Whether he got out or not… he couldn't be responsible for his brother getting caught by these imposters too.

Tony fired one last shot at the fake-England before turning and taking off, and America felt relieved. Not completely, because he could hardly stand, let alone escape on his own. But still… if Canada was here… and he and Tony could get to safety… well… America didn't like the thought of being the damsel, but he trusted Canada. His brother would come through here…

- s - p - a - d - e - s –

Canada was no stranger to awkward and surreal conversations… but this one was unlike any he'd had so far. As one involved in politics, and as someone who was apparently invisible most of the time, he'd had more than his fair share of strange conversations. This cat and mouse chess game he was playing with his 'brother' though… it topped them. He had to be so careful with everything he said, every gesture he made. Whoever it was sitting in front of him seemed to know a _lot_ about the real America… but more frightening than that was that he seemed to be getting better. At the mimicry.

Little mistakes in tone and gesture Canada had noticed at the start of their conversation were now gone. No matter how much Canada was sure he'd not given away each time he noticed, apparently this imposter had read it off him all the same. The blond calling himself America on the couch across from him was getting more and more convincing, and the Canadian felt like he was still at square one in his own efforts. Aside from knowing this wasn't his true brother… nothing else had been gleaned.

A crash and a commotion downstairs had Canada nearly jumping out of his skin, his attention drawn away from the imposter for a moment. In fact, if it hadn't been for the alarmed way that Kumanero started to wiggle and squirm in his arms, he might not have looked in time to see his not-brother make a lunge for him. As it was Canada had to let go of his little bear in order to properly scramble over the loveseat he'd been on to escape. He didn't bother asking pointless things like 'what are you doing' and the like.

His eyes met with the imposter's and it was clear as day that they both knew their little 'game' was over. They began to circle a bit in the sitting room, Canada careful to scoop up Kumasoji when he could without taking his eyes off 'America'. The expression on the fake's face was amused, haughty, downright condescending. It just looked plain wrong on his brother's features. Everything about the fake's posture and body movements were wrong for his brother, now that he wasn't pretending anymore. This man just moved differently, carried himself differently.

"You're not leaving you know," said the imposter, and this time there was a clear accent, as if no effort at all was being made to mask it. The Canadian couldn't place it at all, which set off strange warnings and questions in his mind. "You've done alright for yourself here, but I just can't stand to look at you. All of you Diamonds make me sick; it'll be satisfying getting to discard you all from this world, too."

'_Diamonds?'_ Canada didn't have any response he could really give to that statement that made much sense, or that wasn't a useless denial. "Where's America," he asked instead. His eyes flicked to the floor, knowing full well the basement was below them. The fake used that moment to lunge again, and the Canadian did more than just dodge. He took off, racing for the stairwell.

"America!'' He shouted, and despite how meek he came off most times, he could make his voice carry if he had to. It was the sort of voice a Nation needed in times of war, to call out to their soldiers and rally them. "America can you hear me?" He wasn't getting an answer, but that was fine. He was nearly at the door to the basement stairs when it burst open.

Green flames and America's tiny alien pal came barreling out, Tony rushing right for Canada. They both crouched down for a moment, waiting for the flames to die down a bit. Looking around Canada, Tony lifted his little gun and fired past the Nation and at the fake-America. The fake had to step back, and Tony quickly beckoned Canada along.

"My brother-" he began, but Tony wasn't answering, impatiently gesturing him to follow, firing behind them whenever it seemed like the fake might be giving chase. They raced through America's massive home, reaching a shed which held Tony's tiny saucer.

"Get in," the little grey demanded around a mouthful of profanity, and the Nation obeyed. It was cramped and not meant for humans obviously, but it lifted off and got them away faster than any plane would have. Heart racing, Canada stared at the alien.

"America…" he began, and Tony just cursed.

"They have him, he told me to get _you_ out!" He spat it out in his weird little voice as if Canada had ruined his rescue attempt. The Nation hugged Kumanoki tighter to him and sighed.

"_Who_ are they?" Tony shook his head, but played for Canada the small recordings he'd managed to make of the situation at America's home.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I'm not dead! See?

Sorry for the late _late_ update, and thank you to all the people who came and reviewed! I was shocked, and very pleased. I've updated my profile a bit explaining my writing situation a little, but with any luck updates will be happening again with some sort of frequency.


	4. Chapter 4

He rarely left the basement unattended, busy enough with his work on their little prisoner, wise enough to avoid being seen just yet. However, he'd _handled_ their prisoner for now... what he really need to find out just what, exactly, had happened. The Queen of Spades wasn't worried, no. This world might be new to him and his power yet, but he and his King were claiming it. Making it their own. It would be so much easier once they'd obtained the doppelganger they were so certain he must have here as well. For now though, even if the Queen was a mere shadow of what he'd been in their home...

… well, he was clearly _far_ more powerful than anything here. With a slight shiver, he approached his King. Thoughts of what his husband could do to all these puny, what were they called, _Nations_? It would be lovely to watch.

The King was lounging in a sitting room, left in carnage as it was and always would be beneath him to resort to such menial tasks as cleaning. Beneath the Queen as well, though with their lack of proper Numbers at the moment, things could become quite a mess if days like today became a habit. Sitting beside the King, he said as much.

The King laughed, rich and deep and untouchable. Unconcerned about anything of today, it was that same confidence that had lured the Queen to marry the King in the first place. The unmistakable right to rule, to lead... to be obeyed. It was all there, even in something as simple as a laugh. A strong arm moved to rest over the Queen's shoulders, and he leaned into his husband.

"Then we'll start collecting Numbers again, maybe enslave some of the other suits for fun. It's certainly past time we reclaimed the Jack..." Blue eyes glittered behind glasses, the King tossing him a wink.

The Queen hummed. It _would_ be good to rebuild the court. He cast a glance at the King's jacket, knowing that within a pocket rested a small spade shaped pocket watch. What the King carried in that watch, was unique. Different from the power of the Queen's clock. Debatable which should be considered 'more' powerful, when the two worked together they knew nothing could even hope to truly challenge them. Not in this world or any other.

"Aren't _'you'_ in a bit of a financial spot with his copy here? Some considerable debt?" Honestly, the Queen had not been able to learn as much about their new home as the King had, but from what he'd heard, the copy of their Jack was making the King's copy squirm a bit.

The King smirked at his side. "Amusing, right? It would almost be fun to maintain this charade after we reclaim him... just to watch the chaos of this world when 'we' suddenly change in politics and behaviors."

The King turned locking his eyes to the Queen's. There was an almost fevered excitement there, the sort that burned with the King's utter hatred for anything that refused his command, seethed with a need to bring under his command everything he could set his eyes upon. "I would bring you up into the world and let you watch. I'd hear you laugh and laugh at the way these fools have everything."

Shaking his head, the King have a small shrug. "But not yet."

"Not yet," the Queen echoed, rising from his seat. It was obvious the King wasn't concerned about whatever had gone on up here, at the fact that some_thing_ had seen them along with another Nation. In truth, the Queen wasn't concerned either. He had America handled after all, and the King had _nearly_ consumed everything he needed from the Nation. Strolling back to his temporary place in the basement, the Queen looked forward to their journey to... what was it called again?

Ah yes, China.

- s - p - a - d - e - s –

Travel by 'spaceship' was... new. New and not pleasant, and Canada was so _very_ glad to be on solid ground again. True... the spaceship flew fast and smooth and was devoid of turbulence or screaming children or sweaty overweight seat neighbors... but it was entirely unnerving. Granted, the company and the footage he'd had to watch in flight probably contributed quite a bit to that unnerved feeling... but that was not the point for now though.

Images of green fire spewing up from America's basement seemed to haunt his inner eye every time he closed his eyes, followed shortly by visions of an imposter wearing his brother's face... or his brother subdued and chained and just so very still. Seeing his brother frozen and bound like that was a bit hard to handle, and watching someone who looked just like England acting as jailor caused an unpleasant stir of feelings as well. Feelings that honestly had nothing to do with this and now, feelings that were completely irrelevant save the similar faces and some tenuous symbolism.

Hugging Kumanani close, the Canadian gave up on getting any sleep for now. Things were too fresh and confusing, and sent his mind into restless activity. He checked in with his handlers and officials at work of course, kept them informed that he'd decided to change his plans of travel. Couldn't really tell them much else though... wasn't certain he should. If he mentioned something might be happening to his brother, the humans would likely want to respond right away with mionor policy changes or precautions. With a much shorter hold on time, it would only make sense. Canada would always act with the best interests of his people in mind but for now... for now... it didn't seem like a warning was needed.

Canada was glad to have his feet on the ground, and happy to be outside of France's home once Tony's little craft completed their journey and landed. He... frankly he wasn't sure just what he was expecting here... but he needed help. He wasn't expecting the older Nation to really jump at the thought of helping America out, nor did he think France was likely to believe what was happening. Even having been at the house, even watching the footage Tony had... well... it really all could have been a hoax. An elaborate sham. America acting out for attention as his country scrambled to get its head on straight again.

It was just... it was well England. Canada might not have actually gotten to seen with his own eyes two very real and solid bodies that looked like his brother at the same time, but there was no way England would be caught in this sort of foolishness. Yes, America could use his beloved film tricks to play two roles on camera, if he'd roped Tony into this hoax, but to completely add in a fake England would have been... a bit much.

Canada had actually thought to go directly to said Nation, to inquire about all this. That idea had been discarded. If America was in this situation, then perhaps England was as well. Tony's recordings hadn't picked up the audio cleanly, and much of the dialogue was too difficult to understand. Canada wasn't going to go walking into a dangerous unknown twice thanks.

So... to France. For if nothing else, even if the Nation didn't believe a word Canada said... he'd at least be more than happy to go and mock England for indulging in America's foolishness.

Looking back over his shoulder, the Canadian couldn't see Tony or his spaceship any longer. The little grey wasn't coming in with him, and other than transferring his recordings to Canada's smart phone, hadn't seemed interested in doing anything else just yet. He seemed to be angry at Canada, as if the Nation had spoiled the alien's rescue plans. Which... was entirely possible. Canada just hoped that he could count on the grey as more than just a chauffeur in this whole mess.

City lights danced in the distance as Canada knocked on the door, and France was rather quick to pick up on Canada's less than enthusiastic reception to his greeting. This was... was going to be a very odd conversation.

- s - p - a - d - e - s –

The Queen had really outdone himself here... had to admit that. With a low whistle, eyes roamed over the sight of America. Looked like all the fun and games were over now. No more leniency offered. Granted, he hadn't seen how the Nation was being held before, but he was guessing it hadn't been like _this_.

The Queen's so beloved and treasured green flames completely surrounded the Nation, body hung from the ceiling upside down in golden chains, dangling in the heart of the flame. No doubt if it'd been regular flame clothing and flesh would have long since burned away. Not the green flame... not if the Queen didn't wish it. Surely the flames were meant to supplement the work of the Queen's clock. To enhance and speed it up.

"Haha... ya poor sucker... born with such a stupid unlucky face." Condemned simply because he shared the same appearance as the King of Spades... well, the Joker felt it was a bit of a bum deal.

The Nation wasn't stirring, eyes closed and mouth slack as he hung there. Blood had dried, and bruises would likely never form on this time trapped near-corpse. The flames disturbed the hair slightly, but that was all the 'life' the body seemed to hold. The Joker didn't bother approaching, wasn't honestly concerned about the ultimate fate of this stranger. All he really cared about, of course, was causing a bit of trouble. Wildcard that he was, even he had suffered and paid a horrible price for the war and destruction the Spades had wrought. He held no allegiance to any kingdom, refused all suits and restraints.

_Still!_ When one has their world _literally_ destroyed out from under them though... well... a bit of revenge seems more than justified, now, doesn't it?

"But, can I even use you?" The Joker mused, hands wedged into the hoodie he wore, staring at the Nation that was little more than a hanging slab of meat like this. America was apparently strong enough to have resisted the Queen this far... but anyone who knew about the Spades at all remembered one very important and _vital_ rule in dealing with them:

Time was _always_ on _their_ side.

The longer anyone took to move against the Spades, the more the tide turned against them. Time belonged to the Spades, the cursed King and Queen abusing that power with little restraint. The Joker could appreciate that in a way... but only so far as it didn't ruin _his_ good times.

"It's not like I can sit and debate... Queenie'll probably be back down here any minute..." In fact... he just might be able to hear footsteps coming. Near-silver hair swayed a bit as the Joker shook his head. He'd have to try and time things carefully _if_ he did decide to put America to any use.

For now he danced back, careful to leave no trace of his presence as he dipped into the shadows and out of sight. Pales eyes that could flip and flop between crimson and violent at will locked upon the Queen's so very powerful clock, resting against a chair and seemingly forgotten about. The Joker might have loved to follow chaos and impulse, but he'd seen plenty of poor Numbers simply cease to exist from merely touching the timepiece.

Nope, he wasn't stupid enough to do that, even if the power the clock represented was tempting. The Joker would have to weigh patience over the scant time you could waste in dealing with these 'enemies'. Other than the loss of a home, the Joker didn't hold all that much against them. Theoretically, they were doing the work of carving out his new one anyway.

Idly he wondered if his partner in crime was having any more fun in his games against the Spades.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I do hope you all remembered that the King and Queen of Spades are a couple (from my first A/N). They were the only pair I'd said I'd settled on and all. Let's not have anyone acting surprised and upset now, yes?

But, very late update, and certainly on the short side. This story (and all my others), are always on my mind. The reviews and favs I keep getting have been wonderful motivators for me in hacking a chunk of writing time out of my life.

I actually want to do a Halloween fic, but instead, please enjoy this update! Reviews are loved (even if I am utter fail at responding to them).


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